


The Background of Carlos the Scientist

by misspelledideas



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, no physical description of Cecil besides tattoos, sad shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspelledideas/pseuds/misspelledideas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Carlos the scientist was young, he had no desire to be a scientist, if he was being, as he always tried to be with himself, perfectly honest." This story is a bit of a possible, if slightly A/U, backstory for Carlos the Scientist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Background of Carlos the Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that, as a fandom, we barely have any backstory on the characters, and I wanted some for Carlos. Because I wanted some, I wrote it, for that seemed like a logical transgression.

             When Carlos the scientist was young, he had no desire to be a scientist, if he was being, as he always tried to be with himself, perfectly honest. He wasn't sure _what_ exactly he wanted to be, but he knew that what ever it was he wanted to be, it would not involve sitting around all day, waiting for something to happen with no actual assurances that it would. But he also thought that he was going to marry one of the Spice girls, so clearly, younger him was wrong.

            That, of course, was when he was eleven or twelve, and had dreams of being a firefighter or a baseball player or a ninja. Eleven or twelve was a easy time, a dreamy time, where he thought he could be anything he wanted to be and that's okay.

            Carlos remembered the first time he had hateful words thrown at him, around the same time where he realized that not everyone was simply good or bad.

            " _Alien_." Those horrible people hissed, glaring at him from where ever he was at the time. Boys his age throwing glares, mothers not allowing their children to play with them, hurrying them away with terrible looks on their faces, looks that Carlos couldn't quite identify, but made him feel sick to his stomach anyway.

            When he got home, his mother had explained to him what such words meant, and how ignorant those other people had been.

            " _It's not that they're terrible people, chico, it's that they're afraid of what they don't understand. We're just as legal as they are, and just as alien."_ The kind words didn't help Carlos feel any better, but the hug she accompanied it with and the glass of warm milk did.

            Carlos could also recall, with perfect clarity, the first time he had cut his hair. It had been a particularly bad day, and although Carlos knew more than anybody how other people talked down, how they don't really mean what they say, the pain still cut to the bone and made him feel raw. He was the youngest in his high school, young for a sophomore, younger than the freshmen, and the amount that he had been cut out already was distinct and cut fresh every day. That, coupled with the fact that they had _yet again_ made fun of his hair, hair that was too curly, too feminine, too _not right_ , had him locking himself in the bathroom with a pair of scissors and a razor, intending to fix something, even though Carlos wasn't sure what it was.

            Curly locks of black hair fell into the sink, tumbling down as the gradual _snip snip snip_ of the scissors grew faster, chopping at it erratically as tears rushed down his face and stung his eyes. His glasses slipped down his nose as he turned on the razor, the one that his father had bought from the barber down the street, and cut the rest of it, as close to his head as he dared, the buzzing noise filling his ears until he could think of nothing else.

When his mother got home, she cried. Gentle tears rushed down her face as she said " _¿_ _Bebe, por qu_ _é_ _?_ " and pulled him close to her. He had cried with her, and when his father had gotten home, the two of them had hugged for a long time, rocking back and forth and whispering assurances of perfect futures that none of them believed to be true.

            When Carlos was sixteen, a senior in high school without a plan for the future but enough brains to be capable of doing almost anything, his mother announced, with much joy and a small amount of trepidation, that she was pregnant. She was overjoyed, and her husband sat next to her, squeezing her hand tightly while beaming. Carlos was shocked. Although, from a logical viewpoint, he knew it was possible, as his mother had been only twenty two when she had had him, and that thirty eight wasn't impossible to be pregnant at, he was still caught in the dark, not ever have expected that it actually would happen.

            But he vowed to himself to be the best older brother to that child that he could possibly be. He wasn't small anymore; he had a clearly defined jaw and wonderful muscles, although he kept them hidden under the loose clothing he wore. He could protect the child, and keep him or her safe, and when he or she was older, give them advice and help him with their homework. He could only pray that they inherited some common sense from their parents instead of a high intelligence, which was more of a curse than it seemed. Carlos knew. He had the scars to prove it.

            Nine months later, barely a month out of high school, hungry and angry and everything that is _seventeen_ , Carlos fell in love and had his heart broken at the same time.

            " _There were complications._ " The man had said wiping the sweat off of his brow while looking at Carlos and his father with bleary eyes, a perfect baby girl looking at the both of them from her perch in her father's arms, gurgling happily. " _I'm sorry, we did all we could but... she didn't make it._ " Carlos' chest had seized up, and he barely noticed the closing door as he grabbed the baby from his father's quickly failing arms. He held the beautiful baby to his chest, crying into her soft wisps of hair and kissing the top of her head quietly as tied to even out his breathing. Being sad never did anybody more good, he reminded himself. But he gave himself some time to grieve anyway.

            They took the baby girl home a few days later, the silence of the small car deafening as they drove the short drive home. Neither of the men had gotten any sleep while at the hospital, nor had they spoken to each other, except to mutually agree to name the baby girl after Carlos' lost mother. His father had pulled into the parking lit of the apartment building and Carlos had quickly jumped out to grab the baby from the back, fumbling with the seatbelt of the nearly impossible seatbelt. By the time that he turned around, his father was already inside.

            The next few weeks were painful mayhem for the poor boy. His father seemed to have given up on life, and he was not equipped in the least to single handedly take care of an infant. He lived for the moments where he was drifting, not quite awake but definitely not asleep, his baby sister clutched to his chest like a lifeline. All other times were torture, either surrounded by the memory of what his loving mother was, or asleep, dreaming of her and being cold and terribly alone when he awoke.

            Slowly, the money ran out, as his father still hadn't gone to work, long past the extended grieving period that had kept them with money until it hadn't. Carlos was too proud to use welfare, and he was quickly running out of options.

            Help came about four months later, in the form of Carlos' aunt, his father's sister, who was not exactly rich but decidedly well off. She had knocked at the door with a few suitcases, and Carlos had wanted to cry with relief when he saw her, immediately handing her the baby as she made grabby hands the second she walked through the door.

" _Go get some sleep._ " She had commanded firmly, pointing at Carlos' room renovated into nursery. _"I know how my brother deals with grief_." Carlos had immediately climbed into bed after that, too tired to argue as he collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

            A large amount of time later, he woke from the deep, dreamless sleep that he had been getting to his aunt yelling horrible, horrible curse words. However, they were not directed at him, but at his father, whom she was quite angry at for borderline abandoning his children, too overcome with sadness to help them. Eventually, they came to an agreement: the aunt would stay, stay and help take care of the baby, while his father would dig himself out of the pit and go get a job.

            A week later, his father left, and Carlos hadn't seen him since.

            Carlos wasn't nearly as upset over the loss of his father as he had been over his mother. His father had the choice to leave, wasn't truly there anyway. His mama made no such choice, and she was the one that he cried about when times got hard.

            His aunt still stayed, even after all that. She was the one who convinced Carlos, with a year old baby and still having done nothing with his life except be the best big brother he could be, to go out there and do _something_ , something to help them, help his baby sister.

            Carlos joined the army.

             He joined his army on his eighteenth birthday, to be exact, and was discharged exactly one year, five months, three weeks, and four days later. Turns out that the army wasn't too accepting of gay men, and even less accepting of bisexual men.

            _"Why can't you decide?"_ the horrible men grouped with him, not by choice, but by chance, would hiss, glaring at him or laughing. _"Fag."_ One would whisper, shoving him down and not bothering to help him up. Carlos wasn't even sure how they had found out to be honest, the only one he had ever told about his preference of both men and women was his baby sister, whispered into her hair as he rocked her back and forth, tying to stop the crying.

            _"Let me tell you a secret, Rosa."_ He had whispered into her hair, as the cries grew louder. He knew she wasn't hungry or dirty, so the only thing to do now was wait. _"I like both men and women, isn't that amazing! There is nothing wrong with loving whom you love, bebe, only something wrong with the people who judge you for it. And someday, I'm going to meet someone, a wonderful man or a beautiful woman, and they're going to love you just as much as I do, I promise."_

            But of course, he did talk in his sleep, and that may have played a part in the men finding out about it all. And of course, somebody told somebody important, and a little while later he found himself discharged with only a bit more money in his name.

            When his aunt asked why he had been discharged, a two year old sister crawling around in the background, he was completely honest. She had been cold to him for about a week, before realizing that this was the same Carlos as before, and even if she didn't approve of parts of him she still did love him. He begged her not to tell people of course, and she was nothing if not respectable, and did not tell a soul.

            Six months later, barely twenty, Carlos decided to expand his schooling. His baby sister had just turned three, and she was now old enough for him to be able to go to school and for his aunt to go out and get a job while being left with a sitter. He left her every day with a kiss on the forehead and an assurance of love for the university, the only one that would take him without question of his military days and give him a scholarship.

            Of course, he did stop by between classes, and cooked her some lunch and asked about her day. She didn't talk much, but she smiled and listened attentively as he recounted the things he had learned so far. And he got home before dinner most of the time, and could send the sitter away with a crisp twenty dollar bill. Then, he would cook dinner, and wait for his aunt to get home before they ate.

            Four years later, and Carlos was a fresh graduate of the extremely small Burkton University. He graduated on an excruciatingly sunny day, the heat pounding down upon him as his cap offered little protection in the way of light or heat. But he smiled anyway as he was offered a diploma, shaking the officiator's hand and making out the cheering seven year old with his politely clapping aunt in the small crowd. He hurried off the stage, excited to hug the pair, and did so, squeezing the two tightly and kissing the top of his sister's long dark hair, which he had never let her get cut.

            He knew what he wanted to do, too. He wanted to be a scientist, wanted to try to change people's lives for the better. He wanted to work with the strange and mysterious, but for now, he would just settle for working at the first lab that would take him.

            He had to job hunt for quite a while, searching and searching for a job close enough by to his darling sister so he wouldn't have to move, uproot the both of their lives. It was hard finding a lab that would take him, some not wanting him because of his military years, the ones that left a sense of unclean and anger with him, others not wanting him because of undisclosed reasons, glancing back at him in an untrusting way, a way that made him know it was because he was Latino. Those were the days were he went home with a frustrated feeling deep in his gut, would brush past his eager sister and go straight to the bathroom, scrubbing at his hands until they were so raw he couldn't move them. His sister would then take him into the kitchen, a quiet sense of resignation, and cover his hands with an avocado paste before she attempted to cook dinner, Carlos giving her quiet instructions from his place at the small table. Eventually, his aunt would get home, and her mouth would twist in a sad sort of way before taking the food from his sister and fixing it.

            Eventually, though, he found a job, one that was grateful for him and his expertise, knowing that he was quite intelligent, if high school and college records were anything to go by, and that those military years could only leave him tough. He was assigned to a team of five men, each with their own especially positive traits, and was quickly made team leader. He came out one late night in the lab, quietly, not daring to look up from the beakers he was scrubbing at furiously until Ted, a big man, patted him on the back and told him it was quite all right, and that he had a brother back in Illinois that had a partner and two kids. The rest of the men quickly followed suit, telling him they didn't care, and that he was important to them all the same.  He went home beaming.

            When Carlos was twenty-seven he woke up to his first grey hair. Just one hair, short and curly, close to his temple. He swore and plucked it out quickly, unwilling to be going grey this young. The rest of his day wasn't much better, with him spilling various things and going off on people who didn't deserve to be gone off on.

            Of course, the next day he apologized, and thought nothing of it until about a week later when his darling sister pointed it out while sitting at the counter, pretending to do her homework, but actually watching her brother make spaghetti.

_"You have a grey hair, hermano."_ She giggled and said, and he rushed to try to find a place where he could see it to pluck it out. _"No, keep it, it looks dignified!"_ He scowled at her, but stopped his frantic search through his hair to find the grey hair.

            It didn't take long for a few more grey hairs to pop up, and by the time he was twenty nine, his sister entering into sixth grade (she wasn't smart like him, thank god, but she had a good head on her shoulders and could handle her own) he had what one might call a dignified look. Personally, he resented that. He was still in his twenties, he wasn't ready to be _old_.

            When Carlos turned thirty, his sister turning thirteen, and god, Carlos hated teenagers, had hated himself as a teenager, but could never resent his beautiful Rosa, whom he loved very much, he got an assignment. One that could either break or make his job.

            _"Look, Carlos."_ His supervisor had said, wiping off his brow. _"You do great work. But we want to expand. We want to inspect the strange and mysterious. We need you to do this."_

            _"But I can't be away from Rosa."_ Carlos had protested, pulling his lab coat tightly around himself as to offer protection. _"She's just starting seventh grade, she's just a_ bebe _. Please, I can't do this."_

_"Sure you can,"_ His supervisor had coaxed; putting on what Carlos was sure he thought was a pleasant and agreeable look. _"Night Vale's only an hour away, and haven't you ever heard of the mail?"_

_"But-"_

_"That's enough."_ His supervisor commanded sharply. _"You and your lab will stay out in Night Vale for at least two years. I took the liberty of renting some apartments branched off of the lab. You will stay there, you will like it, and I will not hear any complaints coming from you, or you're fired."_ With that, his supervisor had walked out the door determinedly, and left Carlos with a sense of disbelief and grief.

            When Carlos got home, the first thing he did, after washing his hands in the kitchen sink, lathering his hands in cheap dish soap, was pull his sister up off the chair she had been situated at, and pull her onto the couch. He kissed the top of her head and cried, and when his aunt got home the first thing he did was explain the entire terrible situation to her.

            _"Of course I will take care of her."_ She had promised, pulling him into a hug. _"Now go pack, I expect you to write often,_ _¿_ _Comprendes?"_

            A week later found himself carpooled with the rest of his team, smashed between Tim and Joe. They had arrived at Night Vale, and the first thing that occurred to Carlos was how... off it all looked. It looked completely normal, yet not. He couldn't really explain it, yet he heard his team whispering theories and pointing out things like _"Do you see that house? I bet it's not real."_

As soon as he got his things (5 lab coats, two dress shirts, three T-shirts, two pairs of pajamas, some pants, and a Hawaiian lab coat his sister had bought him as a gag that she had immediately dubbed his "weekend lab coat" and insisted he wear it to at least one formal event) put away in his apartment, he called a press conference for the strange town, explaining that something wasn't quite right with the town, and that things they thought were real might not have been.

            It was all too scientific for him to go into depth, obviously, but that didn't stop him from trying.

            As he left, he noticed a man in the back of the crowd of people, furiously jotting everything down before glancing back up. He looked Carlos in the eye and smiled pleasantly, and Carlos could feel himself turn a deep shade of pink as he hurried away, hoping he hadn't left too bad of an impression. But the last thing he needed in this town was a crush, especially when he had a sister back at home to take care of.

            Quite a while passed before he heard of the radio show, turning the radio on late at night to catch a few snippets of _"Good night, Night Vale, good night,_ _”_ before some mildly disturbing music played. The voice was entrancing, yes, but Carlos fell asleep quickly afterwards, and forgot about it.

            Until the next day, that is, when he caught Ted listening to it while testing the pH of some weird ooze found near the pizza place.

            _"You don't know what it is? Oh man. The broadcaster's completely in love with you."_ Carlos had blushed furiously at that.

            _"I'm sure he's not, honestly, I-"_

_"And perfect Carlos spoke-"_ came out of the radio, and Carlos glared at it, blushing an even deeper fuchsia.

            _"Oh."_ He responded, rubbing his arms furiously. Tim just laughed.

            Carlos had to run into the man a few more times before he really connected the radio voice to the man in front of him. Maybe it was because whenever he saw Carlos, he would barely talk, stuttering and blushing.

            It must have been because he knew, Carlos thought venomously, knew that Carlos knew that he had somehow found out about his sexuality and was making fun of him for the whole world to hear. Well, Carlos thought, scrubbing his hands in the small sink furiously as he found he was apt to do when he was upset, I don't appreciate that. He went to been with raw hands and an aching heart, and slept.

            It took a phone number scrawled on a napkin next to a quickly written name - Cecil Baldwin, voice of Night Vale- for Carlos to accept that maybe the man wasn't making fun of him after all. Maybe- Carlos hoped, at least- he liked him too. Carlos had to admit that that sonorous voice did things to him, made his stomach flutter pleasantly, and he had to admit that Cecil _was_ quite attractive.

            It took a few phone calls, to two people, for Carlos to accept that maybe he liked him back. One phone call, of course, was to Cecil himself, stuttering something about men in jackets and time and needing to warn Night Vale, but he somehow forgot everything in the middle of his calls. He did call again, meeting up the next day to discuss... well, the general weirdness of everything, but Carlos still couldn't figure out why on earth they'd open a dog park if not for dogs to be in it, or the disappearing clock tower, no matter how many times Cecil patiently explained it.

            He had attempted to call Cecil a few other times, as well, but always chickened out before he did, pushing the phone away, filled with worries of ' _what if he was just making fun of me_ ' and ' _what if I screw up_ ' in his head, whispering to him and making him too afraid to even attempt a simple phone call, instead pushing the phone away and scratching at himself.

            The other phone calls were to his darling sister, whom he made certain to call like clockwork (but not the clockwork in Night Vale, _god_ ) every Monday and Thursday and whenever else he could. He first mentioned Cecil to her about seven months after moving to Night Vale, and listened to her squeal excitedly in the background before a loud clanging noise and a " _Jesus, Joseph and Mary, Auntie!_ " in the background.

            She was thirteen, and was apparently in love with this band called 'One Direction' and this boy that Carlos hadn't met, and already did not like very much.  His sister had excitedly asked about Cecil, from what he looked like ( _"My god, Rosa! His tattoos are beautiful, not ridiculous!"_ ) to where he worked ( _"He sounds like a dork, Carlos"_ ) to if they'd been out yet ( _"What do you mean you haven't asked him out?")_

At the end of that too long conversation, Rosa had finally calmed down enough to  give him some advice.

            _"Carlos. Don't be afraid to ask him out. Clearly, he likes you, and I know you like him a lot more than you let on."_ She had said, ignoring his quiet protests to the last sentence. _"No. Carlos, don't be afraid. You never are in a relationship, and if this man makes you happy..."_ She had gotten choked up at that, and Carlos' heart clenched at the other end of the phone line at the cracking of her voice. _"I just want you to be happy, okay? You never let yourself, please, try."_ With that he had nodded, tearing up a bit himself, before wishing her a good night and assuring her of his love, then hanging up.

            That night, he had gone to bed with puffy eyes and a lifted spirit.

            It was slightly pathetic, even Carlos would admit, that it took him a near death experience for him to be able to admit that he was probably maybe most definitely in love with Cecil. And it wasn't even to anyone else that he had admitted this most important fact to, just himself. But as he had sat on the hood of his car, his hand on Cecil's knee, he had never been more honest with himself, admitting his love in his head where no one could possibly hear.

            When he had gotten home, his first reaction had been to call his sister with a plethora of mixed emotions that he didn't particularly care to sift through at the moment. He carefully relayed the events of the evening to her, editing out the details that might cause her worry. As he finished, she squealed in a way that teenage girls tended to be incredibly apt to do. She had nothing to offer him in terms of advice, neither would he have wanted it. They ended the call with smiles on their faces and a warmth in their hearts, whispering _see you soon_ and _love you_ , Carlos feeling content and happy, completely normal in a way that he hadn't felt for exactly a year and a day.

            The next day, Carlos went to his lab with a gentle smile on his face, something that hadn't happened for a very long time. His team wondered, of course, but they said nothing, glad that their leader was happy for once, in a way that he deserved to be. Ted clapped him on the back in a way that was incredibly positive yet quite painful for his shoulder, which was aching quite a bit from the attack that had been waged on him from incredibly tiny people, who had appeared to be of no particular indigenous group.

            A few days later, Cecil had called him. It was right after he had gotten out of the shower, his curly hair tangled as he quickly attempted to dry it with the soft blue striped towel. He had practically dropped the phone upon hearing Cecil's deep voice, not expecting him to call so soon. Cecil chattered for a bit, talking about his day in a very calming way, asking Carlos questions that didn't require too elaborate an answer, allowing Carlos to get lost in his voice, like his radio show, but much more personal.

            Carlos eventually began talking about his day as well, telling a very curious Cecil about his adventures in the lab, this time attempting to figure out the mystery of why the things in everyone's fridges kept getting rearranged. They had ruled out seismic activity, Carlos explained, but there were many other theories that his team was very excited to test.

            Cecil, although his entire career was built on talking, being able to speak clearly yet creatively, was also a very good listener. He didn't interrupt; he didn't attempt to add if he did not know what you were speaking of, and he interjected gasps and exclamations in a way that made Carlos feel quite good about himself. It let him confidently speak, and they chitchatted for hours on various things.

            When the phone call ended, Cecil promising to try to remember the placement of things in his fridge, and possible do a report on it, Carlos began to try to figure out a way to invite Cecil on a date, going through a myriad of phrases in his mind before settling on a simple "I'm calling for personal reasons."

            The date went well. Of course, some points had to be taken off due to the unexpected addition of shadowy figures slowly replacing the normal -well, Carlos wouldn't say _normal_ \- Night Vale citizens, but really, on a whole, Carlos was quite content with the whole thing. Although he himself had been coerced into wearing his "weekend lab coat" by his sister, and he wasn't quite sure how a mushroom could bleed, he had managed to kiss the most attractive man in Night Vale (and probably the country, but Carlos was behind on his prescriptions for his glasses, so he couldn't be sure) so it counted as a pretty good date on his part. Not that he had anything to go on, but still.

            A few months after that first date, when Cecil and Carlos were more comfortable with each other, and Carlos was contemplating giving Cecil a key to his apartment, as silly as that may have seemed, Cecil brought up a subject that Carlos had been carefully avoiding, pushing it away with compliments and excuses, saying he had to go to the bathroom but instead scrubbing his hands raw. His sister.

            _"I know she's really important to you, honey."_ Cecil had said, clasping Carlos' hands tightly between his own. _"But I think I'm important to you too, and I would like to meet her."_

            Carlos wasn't stupid. He knew that someday, clearly, they would have to meet if he wanted his relationship with Cecil to last. He knew that his sister wanted them to meet too, dropping hints that now he could probably take a vacation from his job and visit now, or that she was probably old enough now to take a trip to Night Vale by herself ( _"Absolutely not."_ Carlos swore, and heard his sister sighing pointedly on the other end of the phone.) But Carlos was afraid, wanting to keep his life here separate from his life there. If he kept them both separate, he'd always have something to fall back on if he fucked up with one. But if he combined them, and screwed up, he'd lose everything important to him. The thought terrified him.

            _"It's okay if you don't want to, or if she doesn't want to meet me."_ Cecil had said, shifting slightly after a far too long period of silence. _"I just thought it would be neat."_ He looked so lost then, so forlorn, his eyes gazing sadly at the deep brown floor that Carlos couldn't help surging up to kiss him, wiping the sadness off his face with the collision of their lips and the resounding sparks.

            _"Soon."_ Carlos had muttered against his lips, momentarily forgetting his fears as Cecil broke the kiss and grinned, playing with Carlos' curls.

            Of course, he did freak out later, as soon as Cecil had left. He sat on the couch and rocked himself back and forth, the key he had been planning on giving to Cecil still hidden under the vase. His arms were raw and swollen by the time he had made a decision.

            The next day, as soon as he got off work, he called his little sister.

            _"Rosa, can I please talk to our aunt for a moment?"_ He asked, and she agreed. He could hear her feet hitting the ground, gradually getting quieter, as she ran to get their aunt.

            " _Hello, Carlos._ " His aunt had said quietly. " _How are you, chico?_ "

            " _Bien._ "            He had responded, leaning back into the couch. " _Hey, what are your and Rosa's plans for later this month? I have someone I want you to meet..._ "

            At that, he could practically hear his aunt's smile over the phone, the aunt that he was so afraid of not accepting him once he was he was actually in a relationship (and what a grand relationship it was!) and he took a breath of relief, leaning back into the couch as his tense muscles relaxed and a small smile washed over his face. He listened to her make plans for the next weekend, and calmly knew that things were okay.

            Of course, Cecil and Rosa got along swimmingly, which was ironic due to their habitat being a desert. They talked for hours, and Carlos was content to just listen for the main part, occasionally interjecting but mostly content to hold Cecil's hand as he talked animatedly about things he was sure Rosa didn't even understand. Carlos was content, just letting himself feel as he listened to the most passionate man in the world. And he was okay with that.

            At the end of the weekend, Carlos and his family exchanged their hugs as Cecil and Carlos waited to board the train. Carlos' aunt hugged him tight right before he left, telling him that she would take good care of Rosa, and to visit soon, whispering in his ear: " _You picked a good one, Carlos._ " Rosa tackled both him and Cecil into one big hug right before he left. Carlos watched his sweetheart's eyes widen in surprise, a huge grin lighting up his beautiful face before he hugged her back, his arms enveloping the three of them as they all tried to hold back different emotions of sadness and wistfulness and hope and all sorts of things.

            Right before the pair boarded, Carlos' aunt hugged Cecil, leaning up to whisper something in his ear right before she released him. Carlos watched Cecil blush, nodding at his aunt and smiling, then boarding the train like nothing was ever said. Carlos asked about it the whole ride home, but his amazing boyfriend only smiled and shook his head, before Carlos finally gave up and listened to music.

            A while later, on a day that was far too chilly for the amount of sunlight shining down on Cecil and Carlos, Cecil looked at Carlos with an unreadable expression on his face. His thumb traced circles on Carlos' hand before finally speaking.

            "Carlos." He said seriously, his eyes searching the one he loves face. "Are you happy here?"

            Carlos considered quietly before answering, his face eventually breaking into a shy smile, adoration reflected in his dark eyes.

            "Yeah." He answered. "I am."


End file.
